The Pain In Beauty
by Ovensfriends
Summary: Beautiful, shockingly beautiful. And so sorrowful. The curve of his arms, the way that his eyes glazed over, the way his lips remained immobile until that first cry. Oh, the beauty so great, it is near pain.


"Oh, what... what is this?" you asked. "What is this!" you thundered. 

You wrapped your arms around her body, still warm, and you cried. Shedding tears like you never knew how to before, you wept and grieved for her loss.

It was a beautiful sight,

Your haloed body, mind, and heart hovering above,

before,

and around her damned soul.

Oh, what a sight it was to see such grace, such beauty distorted and deformed into strangled sobs and high pitched moans. What wonder lay before us here, as you

mourned for something that was

beauty in pieces.

Your wings hung low, opening suddenly into a beautiful spread of

radiance and holy light with your loudest, most soul wrenching sob.

The old record player with the old disk and the old music softly crackled in the background, shooting out everything else but this view we had.

This play of old feelings;

Pain,

Loss,

Sorrow.

We sat there, sipping up the red blood of pure souls and relished in the sweetness of

Innocence.

Your blood shot eyes opened, screaming at us. Trying to scorch us with your

beautiful eyes.

Such beauty in your ugliness. The way your lips were down turned, each crinkle in your face as your cried out yet again.

The way each iris is now nothing but a thin, beautiful rim around the pupils or your eyes, the whites laced delicately with red.

You held her to you once again, trying to bring her back to life with your divine rights.

Oh, but you couldn't feel it anymore, could you?

Not even a spark for Hope to set aflame,

a wild fire that will eat at your soul,

consume you.

And leave you forever barren.

Your sobs subsided, and we lifted off the backs of our seats, curious.

Slumping down atop the body, you covered her naked body with your

glorious wings.

And you lifted up from her, the last feather gently dragged across her cheek, that rosy each and with your fingers you

closed those

chocolate eyes.

No longer on your knees then? No more crying over

spilled

blood?

Mudblood, one muttered.

In your stained robes, you sauntered over to us. Hips rolling, eyes lowered, lips set in place,

you stood before one of us, a look unreadable in your

beautiful eyes.

Did you hate the way he looked at you?

Full of lust and triumph;

We had broken an angel.

Did you touch his cheek and glide your gentle fingers down his body for spite?

No, no I did not think you won over, but I don't meddle.

Much.

As you took him by his hand, down the halls, waltzing about with wine on your breath and even more on his,

as you lead him to the clothed rooms with the drapes and the window,

as you

took him by his

blood,

by his wrist,

did you hate the way you

loved it?

I watched from the window, my silver eyes

seeing and yet unseen,

I watched your broken heart so never mended, as you somehow took revenge upon this...

this...

this monster by merely gazing at him the right way.

Never, I thought, that I would understand how easily that man... monster was won.

Green eyes? I scoff

Is that all?

Beautiful, entrancing, but not enough.

You slid the blade across your tongue, ensuring to all that, indeed,

_we become what we kill_.

Monster, I whispered, pupils dilating as my breath comes shorter.

Entranced, I watched as your eyes slowly found mine. My cheeks flushing and the touch of the wind in my

hair was already like the caress of a

lover.

In fear, in lust, I didn't move as you came closer.

The mansion walls could not contain such

lust, such

pain, such

want.

The marbled halls would not believe the sounds that they did not echo,

simply because they were too divine.

Why you did not take my life, I will never know.

But how you tasted,

felt,

shuddered under my touch and my

skin, I will

forget.

Never,

forget.

Oh such frail beauty, too thin, too

delicate to be in the light.

Morning comes.

I find the monster in the other room, bled out and dry, mouth gaping wide,

in a silent scream that will forever haunt the halls of my mind.

Forever.

And the curtains flutter in the wind, like your touch over all of my skin.

All

of

my

skin.

Such a great and terrible beauty, was yours.

Never will I admit that I understood how that

monster,

snake,

evil,

let himself be wooed by your

green eyes.

But your touch,

taste,

and beauty will I

forever,

never,

forget.

* * *

Do you like? 

I hope so. Or else you just wasted a bit of yoru life on something you didn't like.

For the brain dead: Draco's point of view. Harry was holding on to Hermione... spelled right. Harry killed... someone. That's left up to you.

And don't ask me for a point to this. It just came out. Not my fault. Really.

Oh! A disclaimer: **Character's aren't mine. But the insanity thrust upon them is. :)**

You see this? This is me asking you to** maybe **read my other fanfics if you liked this. Even if you didn't. :)


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